The Listener's Keeper
by TheyDontKnowIWrite
Summary: In the harsh world of Skyrim, there's one force especially feared: The Dark Brotherhood. Cicero and The Listener have traveled together for years, becoming the most deadly duo and the most loyal companions. But what will happen when you throw emotions into the two cutthroat's lives? Will everything stay the same? Or will everything change for the worst?
1. Chapter 1

An iron tankard slams down on the counter beside me and Cicero's drunken voice sings through the musty air of the Windpeak Inn.

"Thoring, hehe... funny name...Another drink to quench poor, poor Cicero's thirst," says Cicero, struggling to keep his head up.

His arms hang loosely by his sides, like an old rag doll, as he looks up at the ceiling, giggling as if remembering an old funny joke. Knowing Cicero, he probably was.

"Just one more and then I'm cutting you off there... jester. You've had too much tonight." Thoring tells him, placing a rustic orange bottle of ale in front of Cicero.

Cicero's hand shakes in his gloves as he struggles to pull the cork out of the bottle. The cork comes out with a faint _"pop!"._ His hand trembles violently as he tips the bottle, and about a quarter of the ale spills onto wooden counter. I smile, shake my head, and finish the rest of my ale. I unclip my coin purse from my belt and look at it. It's getting rather worn... I've had this thing for years now. I never really saw a reason to get a new one before, but now I fear it could tear at any snag. I take out a handful of shining gold septims and place them on the counter for the bartender to take. He takes the gold and turns around, muttering something under his breath.

"Excuse me, what was that?" I ask. I'm in too good of a mood tonight and too tipsy tonight to get into a fight, but I'm curious none-the-less.

He faces back to me. "Oh... nothing," he shrugs and turns around again, drying off some used tankards.

Apparently Cicero was listening in and didn't get the answer he was looking for. "What?!" he hollers loudly. "What did you say?! Tell us, tell us, tell usssss!" His arm with the tankard flays wildly, ale raining over the three of us.

"You absurd fool! Look what you've done!" Thoring screams.

He waves the tankard around until it's empty, and picks up the bottle the ale came in. "Tell me, TELL Cicero, or I'll smash this bottle into bits!"

"Fine!" the barkeep angrily conceeds, 'If you really need to know, I said that it's a damn good thing your friend here stops drinking before she starts shouting and tearing things apart like some kind of...draugr! We've all heard the stories!" He rips the bottle out of Cicero's hand just as he was about to smash it.

With his now free hand, Cicero grabs his ebony dagger and swings it over his head, with Thoring watching in terror as Cicero's hand clutching the shimmering blade comes closer. Time seems to slow down for me. I search for any possible thing I could do to stop this. This man isn't a contract, we can't just kill him! Mind scrambling, I think of something.

"Zun!" I shout, and with that the dagger flies out of his hand and hits the wall, clattering to the floor. At this point, the entire inn is staring at us with their jaws ajar. People even come out of their rooms to find out what the commotion is all about and gawk at us. "Cicero, come on! We're leaving!"

I grab him by the arm with no regard to if I'm hurting him or not, yanking at the red cloth of his shirt, which tears it a bit in the process. Thoring and Cicero scream at each other and I lose grip of him. He springs towards Thoring but I catch him again just in time and fling the front door of the inn open. I push Cicero out with as much force as I can while trying to close the door behind me.

Just before I get the door shut, I hear Thoring shriek "I don't want to see either of you around here again! Not you, you draugr scum, or your damn fool of a friend! Never!" And with that, I seal the door and run down the cold paths of Dawnstar with Cicero on my arm until the inn is far in the distance.

We slow to a steady walk and head towards the sanctuary, until Cicero stops. He crosses his arms and pouts.

"Bother and befuddle, my dagger! My smooth, sharp, ebony dagger... gone. The only thing that I've had all these years... gone..." he sighs. He looks distressed, which is a rare thing for Cicero. Almost all the time he's laughing about something or at least smiling about his last kill. Never distressed over anything.

I decide it would be better to comfort him when we got back to the sanctuary instead of trying to talk over the harsh, high winds of one of Skyrim's coldest cities. As we make our way over the hills of snow and rocks, everything is silent. After losing the dagger there's no more clinking or metal against the steel clips on his sheath. That was always Cicero's only problem when it came to stealth- he could never get that damned dagger to stop clinking. The only sounds around us now are the lonely winds. Cicero isn't needlessly rambling or repeating jokes I've heard a hundred times, not even trying to stifle a laugh. The usual Cicero hasn't even been gone half an hour, but I already miss him.

Through the snow we spot the sanctuary in the near distance. We finally arrive and after saying the password, go in to be greeted by the Night Mother. Well, she greets me. After all, I'm the only one who she speaks to. Poor Cicero. I know how badly he yearns to speak to our dear mother.

I sit him down at a table and go to find Babette. I need to fix Cicero's shirt. For reasons not hard to guess, it's not very common to come across Jester clothes in Skyrim. That's why I constantly need to sew up Cicero's clothes. I tried to get him to wear actual armor once, but after an argument and getting his hat and shirt off, he ran around the sanctuary yapping obscenities and locked himself into a cupboard until I agreed to give him his Jester's clothes back. Ever since that incident, Babette has kept some spare sewing materials around just in case something happens to his prized costume.

I find Babette sitting by her alchemy table, like usual. "Babette, I tore Cicero's clothes and need the things to fix them," I explain.

"What on earth were you two doing that caused you to tear his clothes?" she asks, a look of devilish suspicion in her eyes.

"You know, that kind of accusation sounds incredibly disturbing coming from a child."

"You know that I'm not a child, but if it's not that kind of steamy situation, then how did you end up ripping his clothes?" she demands. "I'm not giving you the stuff unless I know why."

"Okay, if you honestly feel the need to know everything, Cicero and I got kicked out of a bar. He had too much to drink and tried to attack the bartender when he said something bad about me. I ripped his clothes trying to drag him out of there. Besides, it was just his shirt sleeve. Now, will you give me the needle and thread," I explain.

"Fair enough," she says, handing the supplies over to me.

I go back to Cicero and pull up a wooden chair beside him. He looks up at me and smiles. He always seems to smile when I help him with something. I smile at him too. We've being traveling and carrying out assassinations together for years now. He's the most loyal companion I've ever had.

I motion for him to lay his arm across the table in front of me and he does. I stick the needle through the cloth and pull it back out again, and again, and again. The cloth tightens as I sew and about halfway through I hit his skin.

"Ooouch!" he yelps, clutching his arm.

I smirk and hold my hand over the place where I hit. "So you can take slashes from knives, arrows, and wild animal bites but you can't take a little pin prick, Cicero?"

" I never said I couldn't take it! It just hurts more when you do it, Listener. You know, because I don't want to stab you... well, actually I want to stab everyone... no nevermind, I don't want to stab you."

" I don't want to stab you either, Cicero." We both laugh. I finish sewing the hole and cut the thread with my teeth, tying it off in a messy knot. I never was very good at this. "There we go. Good as new. We should probably go to bed now. Nazir said he has some contacts for us in the morning."

"Ah yes, sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep. Sweet, sweeeet night. Good night Listener." he says, walking off into the sanctuary. "Sleep tight, don't let the mudcrabs bite! Haha!"

"Good night, Cicero," I reply gently, rubbing my weary eyes and walking off to my own chamber, eager for another morning to come.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mornin' Cicero, Listener" greets Nazir, mouth full of bread, as Cicero and I tiredly drag ourselves out of our rooms early in the morning. I slide my hand against the wall as I walk to the main section. The rocks are freezing and not a single area is smooth. Cold, jagged stone as always. What else would I expect from living in Skyrim? No matter where you go, it's going to be cold, and if something's not made of wood, you can count on it being stone. The closest place I've ever encounter to genuine warmth here is Riften.

Nazir takes his last bite of bread and stands up. "Are you two looking for those contracts I mentioned?" bread spilling out from the corners of his mouth. I nod and he begins. "I've got one on a bandit in an old fort north of Falkreath, an old wandering beggar in Markarth, a woman who lives in a small cabin just off Riften, and last but not least a lowly thief in Solitude. Think you can handle all that?"

I glance over to Cicero for confirmation. When I first joined the Dark Brotherhood, I was a lone ranger just like everyone else. An assassin is meant to walk with nobody on their side but the shadows on their walls and Sithis in their souls, but after sparing Cicero's life all those years ago... that changed. I found that his steps lined perfectly with mine and neither of us could be heard no matter how we moved. We could morph into any shadow together, no matter how small it seemed to be. After quite a while of traveling together I realized that I just enjoyed his company. Although he's a literal cutthroat, he'd never harm me. We also bonded over the fact we're both foreigners in this land, him an Imperial from Cyrodiil and me a dark elf from Morrowind. His unconditional loyalty is the best gift I've ever received in this harsh province.

"Yes, yesss! The more stabbing the better!" Cicero pipes up, jumping and clapping his hands. That was always an odd antic Cicero had when he was happy, dancing around.

I grab my ebony bow from the weapons rack and string it across my back. I always feel safer when it's with me. I put two steel daggers into my belt and turn around to see that Cicero has calmed down, and was now hanging his head. I was about about to ask what was wrong, but he seems to have read my thoughts.

"My dagger..." he groans "My poor dagger..."

"Cicero," Nazir cuts in "I heard about your dagger and sent a letter to one of my contacts down in the thieves guild. Brynjolf sent down one of his men to fetch it from the inn. Gotta admit, those guys are pretty quick on their feet. They're nothing if not fast workers." He pulls up a satchel from under the table and lays it down. After rummaging through it for a bit, he pulls something out and tosses it to Cicero.

"My dagger, my dagger! Oh, Cicero thanks you Nazir! Thank you!" he exclaims happily. "Now I can go back to stabbing and slashing and killing and slaying and slicing and dicing and chopping and-"

"We get it Cicero," I cut him off. I'll admit, his constant rambling can get annoying from time to time. "Now, come on, we've got some contracts to complete."

We leave the sanctuary and head towards our first contract near Falkreath. Both wearing light clothing, we run for a while before getting tired and finally slowing down. We continue down the winding roads until we finally see a carriage driver. We pay the fee for a ride to Falkreath and climbed aboard. Most people would assume assassins just threaten people into doing things, but that's not how I like to act around innocents. Just because assassins can be monsters (and arguably always are on the inside), doesn't mean I don't like to be human. We sit in silence with the occasion mutter or snicker from Cicero, no doubt remembering jokes Nazir told him that morning before we set off. Eventually we reach our destination and climb off.

The fort seems to already be relatively cleared. Either an adventurer was here before us, or a new, smaller group of bandits took out the previous inhabitants. I take out a few weaker bandits with my bow (after all these years, I still don't trust Cicero with one) and we creep into the depths of the fort. The shadows aren't on our side today. Every movement casts a dark figure onto the walls. Noticeable figures. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun shined into every window and crack in the fort.

We hurry through the fort as fast but as silently as we possibly can. When Nazir gave us the details earlier on, he said we were looking for a Nord man with red face paint, forming an X across his face. It didn't take long to find him. I ran in front of him for a distraction while Cicero crept up behind him and stabbed him in the back. One assassination done. Three to go.

We vacate the area and move onto our next target in Markarth. It doesn't take us long to get there and is an easy kill. One arrow to the head from one of the many convenient vantage points in Markarth was all it took for us to send the poor man's soul to Sithis.

It takes quite a while to get to the outskirts of Riften. Night had been upon us for hours by the time we'd gotten there. It made visibility nearly impossible. But being children of the night, we managed.

At last we find the shabby cabin Nazir had told us about. I was picking the lock when Cicero heard movement from inside. He grabs my mouth and with one swift movement pulls me back by the outer log wall of the home. We sit there for a while with his arm around me and his warm gloved hand over my mouth. He really doesn't need to keep his hand there. It's not like I was planning on announcing our presence. But still, we stay there for a minute, him holding me back, listening to the sounds inside the house. It doesn't sound like anyone is trying to escape, so I doubt they know we're here. The sound is faint, but it sounds as if somebody is pacing back and forth. After any sign of movement inside had stopped, I finish picking the lock (quite a complicated lock for such a small cabin, really) and push the door open slowly, trying to avoid any creaking it might make.

The door opens smoothly without a sound. We crawl into the cabin, Cicero close behind me. We stand up, ready to attack, but see something we didn't expect; a woman sitting upright on a bed, tears streaming down her sunken face.

She's a young woman, no older than 20. The tears cascade down her thin cheeks and past her full lips. She has a slim figure but the tunic she's wearing fits her well. Her eyes were big and full of fear. Even while crying she was quite beautiful. After exchanging stares for a while, she speaks.

"Please, please... I know why you're here. You're the Dark Brotherhood. I know that much. And I know why you've been sent. I don't know exactly who sent you, but I have a lot of debt with a lot of people. Debt that I can't pay off yet, but I will. Please, don't do this! I don't deserve to die!" she chokes out. Her hands clutch at her face and her shoulders shake tremendously.

We let her sit there for a while to cry. I never feel genuinely bad about assassinations but there are some cases, like this one, where I do feel a bit of pity. Not that I feel bad about doing it, but feeling pity for someone who doesn't want to die but has to anyway. It doesn't even make sense for me to be torn at all though, because I don't have a choice. I'm an assassin, and once a contract is given, feelings are gone. My Mother appointed me this kill, and I can't fail her. Our mother could tell me to kill my closest friend and I would need to do it. My devotion to the Night Mother and Sithis are stronger than my need for a clear conscience . If I felt the need for a clear conscience, I wouldn't be in all this dirty business. Yet still, the pity still lurks in my mind.

"Cicero, you take this one." I say, but as he steps forward with excitement in his eyes, plotting all the ways he could slay this girl, I add "but make it quick. This girl should not suffer."

He steps up to her bed, took her by the left wrist she had holding her face to move it out of the dagger's path, and with one motion, stabs the wailing girl in the heart. A fitting place for a sad kill.

…...

We leave the cabin, heading towards out next designated location. This kill should be another easier one to carry out. It definitely can't be any harder than the last.

At this late, Cicero is becoming tired. One thing I've learned about Cicero when he's tired is that he tends to complain a lot. He scuffs his feet while trekking to the target and scoffs at things he doesn't like, like the annoying hum of nirnroot as he passes it. It gets under my skin too. Another thing I've noticed is that he tends to get more... what's a good way to describe it? Affectionate, perhaps. Not necessarily in a lovey dovey way, just that he wants more attention than usual. Like when you get so tired you get a little ditzy. He lingers a little closer while walking and complains when I don't talk to him enough. He's gone as far as tackling me when I won't talk to him, since I get quiet when I'm tired. It can get frustrating, but I've gotten used to just about everything he does now.

The trek turned out to be longer than I thought it would be. After circling the same looking tree a few times, I decided that we were lost. We were both nearly dropping from exhaustion, but some light in the distance gives us hope.

I nudge Cicero awake "Do you think that's Solitude up there?'

"No, Solitude has a gate, Listener. There's no gate around that city, silly," he pokes.

"What do you think it is then?"

"Morthal, possibly... maybe... probably... hopefully," he sighs. "Weary travelers like us may as well find out."

The walk towards the lights seems to stretch on forever, and I start to worry the city is some kind of mirage. I realize that it's not just an illusion when we get close to the city and feel our boots soak through with water, drenching our feet. This is without a doubt Morthal. The only city that's nearly impossible to get to without getting your boots wet.

Cicero and I have been to Morthal before, so finding the inn isn't a problem. We drag our tired, wet feet through the door and request two rooms. When I reach for my coin purse, it feels much... lighter. I take it off my belt and look at it. Located at the bottom right hand part of the bag is a small hole, just big enough for Septims to fall out off. All that remained was enough gold for one room. I should have gotten a new coin purse yesterday as soon as I noticed this one was falling apart.

"Sorry, with the amount of coin you have I can only give you one room," explained the inn keeper, who's name has slipped my mind in my tired state.

Not being able to afford to be picky (no pun intended), we take it. I'd take sharing a room over sleeping with the frost trolls and wolves any day. We enter the room, drop the equipment that seems to have gotten heavier since this morning, and look around. Then it strikes us. One room, one bed.

"What are we going to do about this?" I asked, slightly concerned. Cicero and I have been traveling together for a very long time, but one thing we've never done is share a bed.

"Well... I don't know Listener... I could sleep on the floor, if you'd like." he says earnestly.

I couldn't let him do that. Sleeping on the floor is for dogs. Cicero is worth more to me than an old dog. The ground is far too cold for him to sleep on, and the same goes for me.

"No, no Cicero, you don't need to do that. Would you be okay with..." I look at the ground, already embarrassed of what I'm about to say.

"Yes, Listener?" he says innocently.

"Would you be okay with sharing the bed?"

"You mean, sleep beside the Listener?"

"Yes, Cicero. It'll be fine. There's plenty of room."

"O-oh okay." he laughs nervously. "Alright, Listener. Anything for you."

I motion for him to get into bed first. My face felt warm and I was shaky. Why? It's not like this is the first time I've shared a bed with a man. Is this because the situation... no, the circumstances, are different? Because I care about Cicero and not the other men? I mean... it's not like I'm actually DOING anything with him. It's like best friends at a sleepover. Just sharing a bed because there's nowhere else to sleep. That's all.

I shake the thoughts out of my head and glance at Cicero. He's already in bed with his hat off, drifting to sleep. I take off my hood and put my weapons on the table and crawl in with him. He faces one way, and I face the other. Definitely the least awkward way to lay. The bed is much smaller than I had anticipated, so my back presses up against his, and every muscle that moves I feel against me.

"Sleep well, Cicero" I whisper.

"I will," he mumbles back.

Before I knew it, I fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

My eyes opened reluctantly, not wanting to have to get out of the warm bed, and stare at the faded wooden table in front of me. After laying there for a minute, I become conscious of an unfamiliar warmth around my waist. I look down and see an arm, clad in red. Oh, that's right. I almost forgot Cicero was laying beside me.

I turn around carefully to see Cicero's sleeping face looking back at me. He looks so peaceful. Not a sound comes from his pale lips and his soft breathing brushed across my face. This is a side of Cicero I've never seen. A Cicero completely at peace, no bad memories or intrusive jokes to interrupt his thoughts. Normally I would have gotten up right away and gotten ready for the contracts of the day, but this time I decide to stay in bed for a bit, watching him with his arm tucked snugly around my waist. It was almost as if the warmth from being close to someone who was so at peace took away some of my haunting memories too. Gods know I have many of them.

It wasn't long before he woke up. His eyes open gently and look back at me. A faint smile creeps onto his face before he was fully awake. Once awake, his arm jerks off my waist and he sits straight up in bed, as if his spine become a steel rod. He scrambles for his hat and when he can't find it, hides his face in his hands. I can see from the parts that he wasn't covering that his face was a deep shade of crimson.

"Hey, Cicero, are you okay?" I ask him with my hand on his back, already knowing exactly what he was embarrassed about.

His eyes peek cautiously from between his fingers. He sees my face and giggles. He must have seen that I wasn't angry with him. He nods his head and pulls himself out of the bed without a word, just a smile plastered onto his face. The smile remained until we left the inn and began the journey to Solitude.

Little time passes before we arrive. Morthal isn't particularly far from Solitude after all. The iron gates moan as the guards push them open at our arrival and let us in. I examine my surroundings, as it's been quite a while since I've been in this city. It's a shame really, it's quite nice. However, I feel the people that live here aren't a fan of foreigners since they're under the reign of Ulfric Stormcloak, so I don't really make it a habit to visit. The large stone walls of Solitude almost seem to blend in against the dark grey clouds that formed above us. They loom over us, with the threat of downpour at any second.

"Cicero, we're going to have to make this quick," I point out. "I want to get back to the sanctuary before we get rained on."

"As you say, great and powerful Listener, hehe," he grins back.

Cicero is always eager to carry out another assassination. He's one of the few people in the world that was born with an exact purpose and knows precisely what is is; to kill in the name of the Night Mother. Conscienceless, strong, and deadly. The perfect man for his purpose.

The hunt for the thief takes longer than we had expected. We should have known that a thief, a fellow brother of the shadows, would be hard to find. But assassins' business is much more... demanding than that of a thief. Our careers depend on finding anyone we need to find, and because of that, we discover the thief in a hard to notice, claustrophobia-inducing alley. I believe he might have heard of our presence in Solitude from somebody before we began our hunt, because he was clearly hiding from something. Before we bother to ask what that something was though, the man got a piercing ebony arrow shot into him just above the bridge of his nose. Oh well, what more can you do.

Luckily for us, the clouds clear out. The threat of a storm is no longer over our heads (literally), so Cicero and I decided to grab a sweet roll at the general goods store and enjoy it while in Solitude.

As we sit down on a large stone bench, Cicero looks around aimlessly and lets out a deep sigh.

"Solitude... Cicero could tell you a thing or two about... solitude..."


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Cicero informs me that he needed to stay at the sanctuary to tend to Mother. That gives me a day all to myself, which is good since the Night Mother told me to meet a contract in Riften last night. It'll be a quicker journey without Cicero following.

As I had expected, I make it to Riften in half the time I would have with Cicero. I make haste while speaking with the contract so I can spend the rest of my time in this dangerous yet welcoming city shopping. I gained a decent amount of coin from the last few contracts (which I have secured into a new, untorn coin purse) and I might as well spend it while I have the chance. I need a Ring of Peerless Sneaking, which I've been told an Argonian merchant sells here, and some poisons from the local potions shop.

I shop for a while, enjoying my alone time. I eventually find my way to the Argonian. I look through his goods for the ring, but can't find it. Turns out he doesn't have one after all. I'm slightly disappointed about not getting my ring, but not at all disappointed with the poisons. These little beauties will serve me well on some of my stronger-willed assassinations.

I finish up and look at my map for my next destination.. The contract marked the location on it. As I'm looking for where he marked it, an unfamiliar voice calls out through the market place, much to the displeasure of the people around.

"Come, my sons and daughters, to Mara's salvation! The goddess of love beckons you to spend your life with the one you truly love! 'Tis not a difficult task, just find yourself an amulet of the savior of love, or buy it from me, and find the one interested in you! Come, my children!" bellows the man, who has taken to standing on a barrel and waving his arms wildly, presumably in an attempt to be noticed by the annoyed passerbys.

Everyone else in the market seems to pay him no mind, but I'm interested in buying one of these marriage amulets he's offering. Not for myself, mind you. I glance up at him, all high and mighty on the barrel, and clear my throat. He carefully helps himself down and introduces himself.

"Hello, my child! My name is Marmal, priest of Mara. How may I assist you?"

"Actually... I was looking to buy one of those amulets of yours," I say awkwardly. People are staring at me. Is it because I'm talking to him?

"That's great! Who's the lucky man? Or woman, Mara regards love as love. And when would you like to hold the wedding?" he replies excitedly.

I'm a little taken back by his persistence. "Woah, woah... it's not for me. Besides, don't you need the amulet to propose in the first place? Anyways... I'm buying it for a friend. A friend who's quite lonely and... deserves to have somebody for him. How much is it?"

"Oh, is that so?" he seems slightly disappointed by my answer. "Well, it's 500 septims."

Luckily the merchant never had the ring or I wouldn't have been able to afford the amulet.

"Fair enough," I say. "Here's the gold."

I pass Marmal the septims and he slips a golden amulet with a pretty blue gem in the middle and exquisite patterning out of his bag. He hands it over to me and I secure it into my bag. Having second thoughts and remembering the coin incident, I put in in my pocket so I can feel it at all times. I wouldn't want to lose this "salvation", after all.

I bid him goodbye and walk all day back to the sanctuary, pondering how I can give Cicero the amulet without seeming like I was proposing or making him think that I think he's desperate for companionship, especially since I was his companion. The last thing I want is Cicero to think that I no longer want him. Because in truth, I'll always want Cicero by my side. There's nobody better suited for it than him.

…...

After arriving back at the sanctuary, I seek out Cicero. I find him exactly where he said he'd be, oiling mother and her coffin. He seems busy at work, so I opt to leave him alone for a while. I go downstairs to find Babette.

"Is that a dagger in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" she jokes.

"Ha ha, hilarious as always, Babette." I say back, not able to think of a comeback quickly enough. I reach into my deep pocket and wrap my fingers around the gold chain to hold up the amulet. It glowed duly in the dim light of the sanctuary. Her eyes widen immediately, her jaw just about hitting the ground.

"You?! You want to get married?! I always took you as one of those strong, independent women! You're the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, for crying out loud! Why do you want to get tied down with marriage?" she exclaims, completely bewildered by something as innocent as showing her a necklace.

"Calm your horses, I'm not proposing to anyone."

"Well what do you have that for? That's not exactly something you can wear as "just jewellery". Everyone you talk to will be all over you, thinking you want to get hitched."

"It's for Cicero," I admit. "The other day when we were in Solitude he mentioned how lonely he was and... I just thought this amulet might give him a chance with someone. Maybe somebody will like his jokes and be interested. Plus he's a sweetheart, minus the bloodlust. He's one of the better looking people around here anyway. If I wanted marriage, I'd probably-" I realize what I'm about to say and stop dead in my tracks, almost as if someone clipped my vocal cords. Very different expressions were on mine and Babette's face. Mine, awkward and choked up. Hers, a devilish smile and eyes that seemed to know something.

She tips her chin up all high and mighty (the way I normally see high elves do when they talk to someone they deem lower then them, which to a high elf is pretty much everyone) and in a teasing tone says "You'd probably... what? Marry the Jester? The one who's been with you all these years? I mean, you might as well. You two have been through everything together. It makes sense that you would have fallen MADLY in love with him by now."

"No! That's... that's not what I meant! I just... I mean he's... he's a good candidate! For... for someone else!" My stomach flips and turns in embarrassment. I'm gonna get sick. "I just... I have to go!"

I break out of the conversation and scramble to my room. I sit on the stone floor and grab a nearby wooden bucket, not realizing there was water in it. The water tips out quickly and sweeps over the floor. I set the bucket back upright and lean against the wall. My hands squeeze my knees tightly, the leather squeaking slightly under my grip. I let my head fall back, knocking against the tapestry strewn across the wall. I must have moved the wrong way, because it comes tumbling to the ground with a loud crack. I look at the bar that used to hang it up. Cheap iron. Broken. Of course. After all that gold we payed Delvin to decorate the place.

I sigh heavily, calming myself down, realizing how stupid I'm being. I was put in an awkward situation, and trying to justify someone wanting to marry Cicero got taken the wrong way and I got flustered over my mistake. That's it, no big deal. As I finish put the tapestry on a shelf to fix later, I hear footsteps no louder than a mouse and spin to catch the rodent. I just about jump out of my skin when I see Cicero looming above me, with a concerned look on his face.

"Is something wrong with the Listener?" he asks, tilting his head curiously.

"Cicero..." I said, looking up at his innocent face and realizing what I need to do, "I think we should talk."


	5. Chapter 5

My boots slosh through the stream, sticking in the mud occasionally. I look around. The stream stretches as far as I can see, then disappears into the horizon. A small wooden cabin stands lonely near some rocks, and a waterfall roars nearby. The cabin has a small fishing dock just in front of it, sitting over the pond that the waterfall rushes into.

I tap Cicero on the shoulder. "Hey Cicero?" I say "Where is this place?" I must admit that I'm not very good with directions and I'm even worse at remembering small places. They're incredibly hard to find on my map, so I don't visit them often.

"Oh, here? This... this is a place Cicero goes to think. When Cicero first stumbled into Skyrim, lost and cold and tired and confused... I came across this place. A fisherman used to live here... he took care of poor, poor Cicero, but he's long gone by now. It's called Crabber's Shanty, Listener. Cicero thought it would be a nice place to talk."

That pulls my mind out of it's tranquil state and reminds me what I came here for in the first place. I feel my pocket to make sure the amulet is still inside, and it is. Thank the Gods.

We sit down on the rotting planks of the fishing dock. I pull off my sopping shoes (they were completely soaked through, even though they just finished drying from Morthal, and stick to my feet, so it was an effort getting them off) and toss them to the side. I sit back, chin to the clouds and take a deep breath in, then let it out. I take in the sounds around me and shut my eyes. The thundering waterfall sounds magnificent. It wasn't a harsh roar like a fierce sabercat about to pounce or a dragon flying into attack. I can't even describe it. It was just... soothing. A soothing roar, if that makes any sense.

I open my eyes and notice that Cicero had taken off him boots as well and rolled up his jester pants to his knees. His feet sway gently in the water as he peers up at the sky. His worn hat lays beside him, his rich red hair gleaming in the sun. His hair always looks like it was on fire to me on days like these, when the sun is shining this bright. Cicero is far from the most intimidating in Skyrim (despite being in an assassination guild) but he still is quite a bold looking man. His jaw is strong and defined and though he can pick locks without making a sound, his hands are big and raw without the gloves. His eyes are hardened from years of murders and madness and only soften... when he looks at me. How is it that there is a man who scares people with his stare and holds death in his eyes, but when he looks at me, there's only innocence? I shake the thought from my head and nudge him with my arm.

I take the Amulet of Mara out of my pocket and hold it in from of him, smiling. The gold reflects brilliantly in the light and the blue gems glisten like the eyes of a frost dragon. "Cicero, I got this for you in Riften."

His eyes light up like the sun above us. "Oooh, Listener got Cicero a present! Happy day! But..," he paused, "what is this for, Listener?"

"For you, Cicero. I got it so you wouldn't be lonely anymore." I explain.

"Silly Listener," he laughs, "How is a necklace going to keep Cicero company?"

"I don't think you really understand what this is. It's an amulet of Mara. You wear it around your neck and if somebody shows interest in you, you ask if they're interested in you. If they are, they'll probably say something like "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" and if you're interested in them... you two can get married. You won't be lonely anymore, Cicero."

"What if nobody is interested in a fool like Cicero?"

"Somebody will be, trust me" I reassure him, "and I bet she'll be really pretty too. Do you have anyone in mind, Cicero?"

He looks down sheepishly at his feet and wiggles his toes in the water. "I do... but she wouldn't be interested in marrying a fool like me."

An unexpected pang slams through me. A pang as if I just lost something important, and somebody else was about to take it. "Who is it, Cicero?"

"I can't tell the Listener that! You'll just laugh at me. You're very smart, Listener. I'm sure you'll be able to tell without me telling. Well... Cicero hopes."

"Okay... if you don't want to tell me, that's okay too..." At this point, we're both staring down at our feet, almost as if we're expecting some solution to the awkwardness to appear there.

I clear my throat and hold the amulet by his head. "Would you like me to put it on you?"

He nods without looking up, his face as red as a beet. I wrap my arms around his neck to set the clasp on the amulet and he looks up abruptly. Our faces are inches apart, my arms tied around his neck. We stay there for a moment, eyes wide, just... observing each other. The light in each others eyes, our flushed cheeks, my black hair falling in front of my eyes and his crimson hair falling in front of his. He reaches his hand up and intertwines his long finger in my hair on the back of my head. I stay there, almost in a trance... then clasp the amulet and let my arms fall. Cicero pulls away his arm, embarrassed, and stands up.

"We should..." he croaks awkwardly, "we should probably head back now, Listener! The... the day is young and we have things to do!" He stands dignified as if nothing happened.

His face is about as red as the clothes on his back, and I'm guessing that mine was too even though my skin is usually ashen and grey. His overly confident stance makes it blatantly obvious he's trying to regain his composure. We put our boots back on and Cicero tucks his hat onto his fiery hair, and we set off back on the road home.

We walked alongside each other in silence, neither of us really having anything to say. I look at him sporting his new amulet and wonder how long it will be before he swoops a lady off her feet and carries her off to the temple to get married. The pang returns, and I try to reconcile situations where I felt it before. After a bit of thinking I remember feeling it when Cicero takes a kill I wanted or when Babette makes a better potion than me. I remember feeling it when Nazir bought a feast for everyone but since I was on a contract and returned late never got any. I remember it when Cicero joked around with a nord lady in Winterhold. Was this... jealousy?

…...

We keep walking and just as we're about to stop for a break, our hands brush, just about clasping. Surprised, I stop walking and look at him. Cicero looks at me as if he was surprise too but also embarrassed it happened.

"Sorry, Listener... I didn't mean to... Sorry if stupid Cicero made things awkward... again..." he choked.

"Cicero, look at me," I start as I put my hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me shyly. Had he... actually tried to hold my hand? "Don't get embarrassed over that. I know it was an accident." ...Right?

"Yes, an accident," he replies, laughing nervously.

The clues swirl in my head. Not telling me who he wanted to marry. The moment we shared while putting on his amulet. Him... trying to hold my hand. My loyal companion that I've had around for years... is he in love with me?


	6. Chapter 6

I pace through the sanctuary and tear the needless, ridiculous thoughts out of my head. Enough of this thinking of love and romance! By the Gods, what was I thinking? I'm the dragonborn, leader of the Dark Brotherhood and the Night Mother's listener, I come from the harshest province in Tamriel, and I've killed more people than I can count. I'm too strong for love. To strong to fall for something so temporary that can ruin my so easily if it goes awry. Cicero will move on eventually, or I'll find another woman to be by his side.

I hastily clothe myself in some stronger armor than my shroud, and break free of the binding doors of the sanctuary. I have plenty of contracts today, but they can wait. Let the unfortunate fools live another day. Today is a day for anger. Today is a day for release. Today... is a day for true bloodlust.

…...

Shadowmere dashes furiously down the cobblestone roads following my reign and every command. He runs so fast I struggled to stay on with every turn, but I'm more determined than ever. Determined to find a cave. A cave full of bandits, lives ripe for the taking.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Looking for an hollowed entrance in the mountains along the way. I snap the reigns and Shadowmere comes to a screeching halt. I found one. Exactly what I'm looking for. I jump off Shadowmere, draw my bow and in two quick flicks of my wrist, send blood pouring out of the two guarding bandits' foreheads. I didn't want them to alarm any prey that may be inside waiting for me.

I sling my bow back over my back. Disregard being an assassin. Disregard my thievish habits. Disregard any kind of stealth. I storm into the cave to find a group of bandits looking back at me. This is perfect.

"Well, well what do we have-"

"FUS RO DAH!" the bandits are flung through the air to the walls of the cave. I survey the room. 6 of them, lying in heaps, struggling to get up. Pathetic! I smile as two don't get up. Dead. Bones broken by the power of my shout. One lays with it's torso against the wall with it's head on the floor, neck twisted at an ungodly angle. The other would look like they had peacefully died, had it not been for the blood that drenched it's lifeless face. He groans in pain for a moment then goes silent. My screaming lust for blood smirks inside me. It's only just had a taste of what it has come for.

One particularly brave orc gets up and sprints towards me, a large steel sword posted above his head. I decide to play with him for a bit, clashing swords, making him think he has a chance. People see me as mild mannered most of the time. People forget that I LEAD the Dark Brotherhood. That my soul is made only to serve Sithis. People forget that just because I act human, I'm really a monster.

The monster inside me grows with every clash of the blades, ripping through my skin, begging to get out. My skin burns with anticipation and the monster screeches, telling me to do more. "Do..." our swords hit together with a metallic zing, "you..." and they do again, "realized who I... who I am, orc?! I...!" metal on metal rings through the air "I AM... WHAT NIGHTMARES ARE MADE OF!"

My heavily armored foot swings up and I kick him to the ground, pressing my foot hard into his ribcage. He gasps for air, but to no avail. I feel his ribs crack beneath my monster is fully awaken now, and there's no stopping it. Keeping the pressure down, I pick up his own greatsword and raise it above me. Without a second thought, I bring it down with a force so great that it pierces into his plated armor, through his chest, and into the rock ground under him.

I laugh. At times like these, the monster is not just inside me. The monster is me.

My other victims stand horrified against the walls. I turn to the door as if to leave, but shout at it instead. Rocks come tumbling down and block the entrance. No escaping for the 3 remaining, ill-fated, souls.

Two cower together in a corner and one stands alone. A brave one, huh? I approach the lone ranger and rip off their helmet. A woman. Not a brave one either. Paralyzed in fear, she looks at me completely frozen. I put my face nearly touching hers, my lips to her ear.

"What's the matter?" I whisper "Scared?"

I plunge my dagger into her heart and stand back. She coughs, spraying blood onto by face. I lick my lips, and turn away as she falls to the floor. No foolish romance could ever satisfy me like this. Last two. The cowards. Just enough to fill the gauge for my monster to be at peace one again.

"Which one of you..." I say, playfully twirling my sword and pointing it at them, "wants to go first?"

They screech and huddle in the corner. One altmer, one fellow dark elf, both men, hiding in a corner, nearly soiling their pants. Can you imagine anything more pitiful?

The dark elf pushes the altmer out in front of him, onto his knees, not two feet away from me.

"Well, then," I smirk. "It looks like your "friend" over here has volunteered you. How should we do this? Oh, I know so many ways. You see, slashing throats in the Dark Brotherhood gets boring after a while, so you tend to get a little more... creative. I could have your head off in a second with this blade or cut your stomach clean out... I have other ways of course, but I won't get into detail. Well, not anymore than I already have."

He's still on his hands and knees with his head hung, crying and looking at the floor.

"Look at me when I speak to you!" I howl, and kick him in the jaw, hard. A sickening crack sounds through the air, and the altmer lays motionless of the floor with his neck bent in a way humans necks are not meant to bend. Looks like that's the end of that one. I can feel myself getting very close. So very close to getting what I need. To fulfilling this demanding, demented bloodlust.

"Oops," I giggle, piercing the dark elf with my stare. "Didn't mean for that to end that way."

He drops to his knees and in between uncontrollable sobbing, begs for his life.

"Please, please, please" he chokes out "I'm not worth killing. I'm just a low life bandit. We're from the same province! We're the same race! Show some compassion! Please! Oh... by the gods, help me gods..."

I stand over him, sword ready.

"By the gods, please, please, send my angel to save me gods, please...!"

"Sorry," I say, "But there are no angels where I come from."

Lights out.


	7. Chapter 7

Once I break through the rocks and gravel I sent down to block the entrance, the light of the afternoon sun shines on my face. I squint, not quite ready to come out yet. I sit down on the cave floor and grin to myself, looking at my creation. It's been a while since I've done this. It's something I normally end up doing when stress gets to be too much.

The scene in front of me is like a perfect painting, the sunlight making it look even more beautiful. Shades of red spilled everywhere, magnificently accented by the white of shattered bones. This is why I call my line of work art. People fear the Dark Brotherhood for a good reason; you wouldn't guess who we are or what we're capable of when you talk to us in the streets, but we're capable of more than you'd think. We're human (or elves, lizards, or cats, but you catch my meaning) but we just... have a certain darkness inside us. Darkness that needs a break from dry assassinations from time to time and begs for events like these. You could almost say we use the world as our canvas, and people as the paints.

Giving my masterpiece one last look, I decide I'm ready to make my exit. I climb out of the hole I've dug through the barricade to see Shadowmere waiting for me on the other side. I nuzzle his head with mine and jump onto his back. What else did I have to do today? Oh, right. Contracts.

After recent events, I think I'll leave Cicero behind on these contacts. It'll hurt him, but I need to... put a bit of space between us. He's been nothing but loyal to me for years, so I feel guilty for leaving him behind, but what am I supposed to do? I can't have him fall more in love with me, and I can't afford for my feelings, these feelings I'm trying so hard to shut out, to grow any stronger for him either.

…...

The contracts were the same as always. Find an unsuspecting target and eliminate them in the least messy way possible. This line of work is very cookie cutter sometimes, and the only time anything is exciting is when people fight back. I'll usually play with them for a bit before finishing the deed, but occasions like this are rare. Being a master of the shadows, targets don't realize what's going on until they're coughing up blood from a poisoned drink or the gleam off a dagger shines in their eyes as it lays across their throat.

See, you think that an assassin, someone who literally lives to kill, would get pleasure from every assassination. But it really doesn't work that way. It's my belief that every one of us has a monster inside, and the only thing keeping it from consuming us is the delicate taste of bittersweet blood. Every time our monsters are fed, they stay calm, and we maintain our humanity. It's our humanity that allows us to keep our emotions. But sometimes the beast gets out of control and wants more. That's when they soar free, killing everything in it's path, savoring every drop of blood spilled. So assassinations merely please the monster enough to keep it calm, but it gets sick of contracted blood from time to time and wants something new. Something it doesn't have to sneak up on. Something that doesn't have to be done quickly. Something... something that can make a _mess._ Once it's pleased again, it returns to normal, as do we. That's my philosophy about behind being an assassin, and I can't imagine it any other way.

…...

Back at the sanctuary, I kick off my boots and plunk down on my bed, nestling myself in between the blankets. I put my hands behind my head and stare up and the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. For a while I just lay there, thinking about all the crazy things that have been happening lately, recounting all of them in my head. It feels like no matter how much I try to shake these things off, they're stuck in my brain and won't go away.

The bed sheets rustle as I roll over and close my eyes, trying one last time to forget about everything. I put all my concentration on wiping memories and feelings of these past few days out of my head, and it works, well, enough anyway. Counting this a victory, I decide I'll try to get some sleep when I hear humming in the hall. The only one who's every happy enough to hum in this dreary place is Cicero...

With just the simple thought of Cicero outside humming happily, every memory and emotion I've gained over the short time comes flooding back, like somebody opened flood gates that were blocking all the happy (but terrifying and confusing) emotions in my head. Were all the kills today meaningless? Did all that enjoyment go to waste?

I stay still, images sweeping through my head as I listen to Cicero hum. I think about Cicero asking some lady to get married and a pain shoots through my chest. I think about not being able to travel with Cicero anymore because he wants to be with his wife. I think about how I pushed Cicero away today, and how he was probably hurt by it, all because I didn't know what I was feeling. These thought pulse in my mind and I finally decide: Tomorrow I'll ask Cicero to go on an adventure with me, and we'll see what fate has in store.


	8. Chapter 8

After a rather sleepless night, I wake up to an unfamiliar feeling on my forehead. I put the back of my hand to it and pull it away. Wet. Above me big, cold drops off water dribble from the ceiling and splash down onto my skin. The soft patter as it hits my skin and the cool lines it leaves as the drops roll away is the most calming thing I've experienced all week. I lie there for a little while, not wanting to face Cicero today but knowing I have to. I start to think about the water falling again. Don't they use this as a type of torture in some places? I feel like the methods we use are much worse than this. Knives in the arms and left to bleed out, being strung up from ropes for days and days, being used as target practice... those all seem like much harsher punishments than having water drop on you every once and a while, don't they?

I wearily sit up and look out the window. It's bright out, even with the constant grey skies of Dawnstar... I must have slept for a while. I step out of bed, the pads of my feet pressing against the arctic stone floor. The chill feels good. The cold has always helped me calm down and leveled my head. Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to Skyrim?

Getting dressed, I ponder how I'm going to ask Cicero to go out with me today. We've gotten behind on contracts lately and I think he's starting to miss the thrill of the hunt. What does he enjoy more though? Me or the hunt? If you asked me a month ago I'd say the hunt, but after all that's happened lately I'm starting to doubt that.

Getting ready for the day takes a regretfully short amount of time, and I drag myself down the stairs to the dining room. I decide the best thing I could do right now is have a nice, big breakfast to prepare for the day. Yeah, that sounds good. That's definitely going to make me feel better... maybe not.

I can't eat a bite. It feels like my heart's already in my stomach, which is more than enough to "eat" for me. I take off my gauntlets and fold my arms across the table, laying my head in them. Breathing steadily, my mind wanders back to what I'm going to say today. What AM I going to say today? If I don't even have my own feelings figured out, how am I supposed to convey them so someone else? I shut out everything lay there. I hear someone come in and look up.

Nazir is standing in the doorway of the torture room, arms crossed, with a concerned look on his face. He keeps staring at me with the same expression, not saying a word.

Confused as to what he wanted, I ask him. "What's wrong? Did one of the ransom hostages die too quickly again?"

"No, that's not it, Listener. There's just been something odd here lately." he says.

"Odd? Well Babette's been working on a new potion and it's been making it hard to breathe in here... is that what you're referring to?"

"No, no, it's not that. It's something about you Listener, and I can't figure out what it is."

"Have I been acting differently?" I ask. I hope my behavior hasn't been giving anything away...

"Different's one word for it. You've seemed a little depressed the last day or two... and you've been avoiding the Fool. You're never like that. What's bothering you?" he analyzes. He looks like he's onto something, but can't put his finger on what it is.

"No, nothing, I've just been tired... that's all." Tired is one way to put it. Tired of everything that's been happening.

"Okay, well, whatever you say Listener. I won't stick my nose in places they don't belong." He grabs some cheese off the table, shoves some in his mouth, and with one more concerned glance at me, calmly leaves the room.

I get up from my seat, pacing around the room for a bit. I go to the candle stick, letting the hot wax drip onto my finger. It rolls down, leaving a trail of wax that hardens quickly and rub my fingers together. The wax cracks up and I turn around as the it falls to the ground to see Cicero standing a few feet away from me. I nearly jump out of my skin, not even realizing he had entered the room.

"Cicero!" I yell. "When did you get here?"

"Here? I'm here all the time, silly Listener." he replies. "I live here, with you and Mother, remember?" The candle light glints off of the Amulet of Mara still hanging around his neck. He hasn't taken it off since I gave it to him, not even to sleep.

"I meant when did you get in this room? I didn't hear you come in."

"Only a minute ago. I like being with you, Listener, even if you're not acknowledging me, hehe."

With that, I feel my face heat up again as I try to think of how to ask him if he'd like to go out with me today. I've decided that I'm going to take him to a ruin where we can clear out some draugr then be alone to talk. I've never taken him to a ruin before, but with his skill I'm not worried about him getting hurt. It'll be the perfect opportunity to talk without being interrupted once we're done.

"Why are you so quiet, Listener?" His voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, I was just... thinking."

"About wha -"

"Do you want to try something new today? I blurt out.

He looks a little taken back by me cutting him off, but I continue anyway.

"I was thinking we could go clear out a dungeon and have some alone time together. You know, to get some things straight between us," I stammer.

A piece of hair falls in front of his eyes and he brushes it back, revealing a trickle of red creeping onto his cheeks. "...Alone time...?" His eyes fall to the floor, not wanting to look at me.

"Not like that! Not like that at all! It's just there's been some things... different about us lately and if we don't fix them... I don't think... I don't think we'll get able to travel together anymore, Cicero."

His head jerks up with the most heartbroken look in his eyes I've ever seen. I instantly regret what I said. Cicero has always been the happiest person I've ever known, and seeing him with this look of melancholy tears me apart.

His hands grab my shoulders as he lunges forward, shaking me. His grip tightens as he yells, holding me harder and harder with every shake.

"You're not serious are you Listener?! We've been traveling together for years Listener! Why would you be doing this now Listener?!" he hollers.

"Cicero, enough!" Tearing his hands of my shoulders, we stand still, staring at each other. A silver tear falls down his cheek and he does something I didn't expect. He embraces me, holding my head to his shoulder, not letting me go. His head rests on the top of mine, his free hand on the small of my back. I bring my arms up to hold him back. I don't want to lose him. I can't lose him now. Not after all the time we've had together.

"Listener, let's go to that ruin. I don't want to stop being by Listener's side. Who else would put up with a poor fool like Cicero? Stupid, stupid, Cicero..." a drop of water hits the top of my head. A tear.

"I don't want to stop being by your side either, Cicero," I say, pulling away from him. He keeps his hand on my back, not letting me go. "Hey, Cicero?"

"Yes Listener?" he says softly, tears streaming down his face.

"Let's go to that ruin."


	9. Chapter 9 (Final)

The journey to the ruins is a good chance to reflect on a lot of things. The tears have finally dried off of Cicero's face, but he hasn't made a sound the entire time. He must be thinking too. I wonder what he thinks about at times like these? Does he know what's going on? Does he even know what the emotions he's going through are? I doubt that Cicero has ever been in love. He's a man that only has love for one thing: His work. He's dedicated his entire life to it and I'm sure that even if he did get married, he'd abandon the lucky lady for contracts. His lust for blood will always be much stronger than his lust for a woman.

The funny part is, I always thought Cicero would always live his life without love. He had done it for years and years, some of which he spent with me, but chose the last few days to let it hit him like a ton of bricks. Why did it have to be me though? We've always been so good together, but it's always been platonic. Was it the sharing a bed that made it click for him? Was it finally being that close to me that made him want to change what we had? But what about me? I've never had this strange, intriguing feeling for someone. My only explanation for it would be that I love how he actually cares for me. The other men I've been with never displayed that want to protect me, that want to be with me at all times. Maybe this was all supposed to happen.

I wonder how today is going to turn out. I've learned over the last few days that I'm not very good at planning things like this ahead of time. When it comes to assassinations, I always have a precise plan. Everything is in order. I know every step, every corner, how the victim will react, and how to handle it best. But when it comes to having these emotions, nothing is ever in a straight line. It twists and turns and tosses you everywhere, rendering any sort of planning useless. It unlocks a whole new side to an assassin, the part that thinks with their heart. If assassins weren't hard-wired to think with their heads all the time, our work would be impossible. We'd never get any kills done since our consciences would constantly be in the way. When you deal with unfamiliar feeling like this, you need to let your heart do the thinking that your brain can't comprehend.

We keep walking in silence, occasionally glancing at each other. A twisting path leads us up a hill, the ruins sitting at the top. Reaching the black iron doors, we do one last check before entering.

"Do you have your dagger Cicero?" I ask.

He nods his head.

"Your armor is on correctly right?"

"Of course Listener," he mumbles. I made him wear some light armor, just in case something went wrong. Light armor doesn't provide as much protection as I'd like, but I trust that he can handle himself without really needing it.

The doors creak loudly as we push them open, the bottoms grinding against the ground. Cool air rushed out against us from the ruin, sending a shiver down my spine. The air is old and dry, and laced with dust from hundreds of years of inactivity. The ancient statues inside have been untouched for centuries, every trap and puzzle still in place.

We press on deeper into the ruins, not encountering any draugr yet. Cobwebs hang from every corner with coffins decorating the walls. Luckily for us, nothing's come out of them yet.

We go in a little further when I hear something move. I look behind me to see a Restless draugr coming out of their coffin, less than 5 feet away from me. I unsheathe my sword, ready to swing when a flash of red darts in front me, almost two quick to see. The draugr falls to the floor with a thump, and Cicero stands confidently beside me.

"Hehe, Cicero did that for you, Listener." he says, hands on his hip and chin proudly in the air.

Maybe I really was worried about him over nothing. He always could handle himself, I don't know why I thought he wouldn't be able to now. We decide to keep going through the ruin to find a good place. Every time a draugr came out Cicero would leap in front of me, always killing it in one swipe. He never let me get any kills in, and he looks like he's starting to get tired. His breathing's gotten heavier and his shoulders are sagging more than usual.

We finally reach the last section of the ruins. It's a large and fairly barren room, with one part sectioned off by a stone wall. The divided section has one slender window, probably just big enough to fit in, a door, and some benches and chests inside. Coffins line the walls both in the main and divided section, but none have moved yet.

"Fus!" I shout, hoping the noise will awaken any draugrs that may choose to come out. We wait a minute. Nothing.

"Listener, why don't we look around here for a while first? There could be some pretty things to bring back to Mother," Cicero asks.

"Sure, Cicero. Why don't you check out that divided off part over there and I'll search the main room?"

"Anything you say, Listener, hehe."

I wander around the room, inspecting each coffin for any gems that may be embedded into them that I can scavenge. Cicero hums as he digs through chests in the other room, the occasional "ooh" when he finds something nice.

Disappointed I haven't been able to find anything, I start to head over to Cicero's section when I notice a pedestal with a glowing red dagger against the wall. I don't touch the dagger yet, but exam it. The handle is carved from iron with a interesting design, the blade silver and slightly curved. The red aura floating off it reminds me of blood swimming through water. It's a fairly nice dagger, so I pick it up and but it in my bag. As soon as I do that, the plate it was sitting on starts to slowly rise as I hear stone sliding against stone behind me. Damn it, a trap!

"Cicero!" I yell, whipping around "Get out of that room!"

Too late. The stone door's already shut tight with no way of opening it.

I go to the small window to see if he's okay.

"Are you alright in there?" I ask nervously.

"I'm fine, just a little trapped," he replies.

"Try to climb out this window, come on."

He tries with no avail. His big frame is far too thick to fit through the thin window. I sigh, pondering how to get him out of there.

Cicero pulls himself back out of the window, standing in the middle of the room when one of the coffins swing open, the door of it nearly crushing him. He brings his dagger through the throat of the draugr killing it instantly, but more and more coffins start popping open. I stand there in terror as a flood of draugr fill the room, quickly outnumbering him.

"Cicero, I'm coming to help! Hold them off!" I scream. The window may have been too small for him to get out, but it's not to small for me to get in. I hoist myself up and push myself through when my armor snags on a jagged edge. The draugr begin to close in on him as I try my hardest to pull myself in, my armor still caught on the wall. My heart races as the draugr get closer to him, me hopelessly watching from the window, unable to move.

"Haaaaaaaaaa!" he yells, spinning and slashing in every direction. Draugr fall around his feet all around him, with him almost tripping over a few. So far, he's holding out, but I keep trying to get in to help.

He falls backwards over a the corpse of a draugr and my breath stops. A draugr falls on top of him, knife out and ready to strike, but with a strong kick Cicero sends him flying across the room, smashing against the wall. More come and he gets back up, his anger growing more and more every second.

"None of you..." he pants, "Are going to... take me..."

"AWAY FROM THE LISTENER!" he shrieks, so loud the sound echoes through the tunnels of the ruins behind me.

My heart feels like it's going to fall out of my chest as I keep trying to tear myself out of the window's hold, hot tears streaming down my face. Draugr keep coming out in an endless stream, with Cicero starting to slow down from exhaustion. With about 6 draugr still left in the room, the coffins stop opening. I calm down a bit, still screaming for Cicero to fight, when one last coffin falls open, and a Draugr Deathlord emerges. Time stops completely.

Everything moves in slow motion as the Deathlord drifts to Cicero, Cicero still fighting the other monsters. I try to scream for him to turn around but no words come out. I stay there, my words failing me, unable to make a sound, as the Deathlord draws his sword. Cicero still hasn't noticed it behind him, and the sword is getting farther and farther out of the Deathlord's sheathe.

"Cicero, no!" I wail as the Deathlord grabs him by the hair, sending the sword plunging through his back. The armor gives quickly with the steel blade coming out the other side, gleaming in ruby red blood. His eyes open wide and shake, hands falling to his side. He hits the floor on his knees, trembling and gritting his teeth. The long sword still inside him digs into the ground, stopping him from falling forward.

My soul explodes in side of me and I use more force than I thought I had to push myself through the window. Half the armor rips right off, staying snagged on the wall. Sword in hand, I kick the Deathlord to the ground and straddle it. I sit over it, coughing and crying violently, stabbing it as vigorously as I can until I'm sure there's no way it's getting up. I feel my sword go all the way through it and hit the ground and keep going until I can't breathe anymore. My tears choke me as I get up and run to Cicero, pulling the blade out of his back.

I gently lay him across my lap, my tears falling onto his pale face. All the colour's drained from him, his skin cold and sweaty. I lean over him and brush his hair off his face, holding him close. The Amulet of Mara still hangs around his neck, the shimmering gold now red from the blood.

I hold it in one hand, holding his head up with the other.

"I'm so sorry Cicero," I cry. "This is all my fault. All of this. You getting trapped in this room, me selfishly pushing you away, me making you lonely all these years..."

"I was never lonely with you," he coughs, more blood pouring out the corner of his mouth. "Cicero was always happiest with you."

"I was always happiest with you too Cicero! But this room, this is all my fault! All because I thought things would be ruined between us."

"It's not your fault, Listener. Cicero was... overjoyed the Listener wanted to go on an adventure. To have alone time. Cicero always wants to be with the Listener." His lips shake and form a distant smile, as he reaches one hand up to touch my face. I clutch the amulet harder, almost shattering it in my hands.

"Listener, that amulet..." he says weakly, tears pouring across his cheeks.

I nod my head slowly, not wanting to lose sight of him for even a second.

"That amulet Listener... when you gave it to me... I immediately knew who I wanted to give it too, but I was scared. Scared of what they might say," he laughs faintly. "I think you've figured it out like I though you would though..."

I nod my head again, waiting for him to continue.

"Listener, are you interested in me?"

"Of course," I sob, putting my forehead against his, "Why wouldn't I be?"

He pressed his lips against mine as his eyes shut slowly, his last breath escaping from his mouth, and my most loyal companion and only one I ever loved was gone with one last smile that will last for eternity.


End file.
